The Black House
by RainynDawn
Summary: Two worlds, two different times, two different people and yet they are connected through a journal. Love extends beyond time to bring two people together in The Black House. SBHG.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Summary: Two worlds, two different times, two different people and yet they are connected through a journal. Love extends beyond time to bring two people together in The Black House. SBHG**

**Beta: Meridith-R.E.M. Thank you!**

**Introduction**

It had been two long years since the tragic death of Sirius Black. The war was now over and done with, though the world was still bleak and fearful. Voldemort's presence may have been gone, but his essence still lingered in the air. Death and misery had become convenient companions to those who remained, both magical and muggle alike, and the hazy fog of suspicion didn't appear as if it would lift any time soon.

But that is not where our story begins. You see, even in the darkest pit of despair, there is still a little light just waiting to escape, a hope for a better tomorrow. Our story begins with two people who know each other in a way and yet, at the same time, don't. Two people, two destinies, two different dreams, but yet, one love. Two very different people at two very different times learn that with just a tiny spark of hope, anything is possible.

_That_, ladies and gentlemen, is where our story begins….

**Chapter 1**

Hermione awoke to the shrill buzzer of her doorbell in the early afternoon on June eighteenth. Her face was smashed to a book and papers were strewn about her. Her eyes were bloodshot from the lack of a proper goodnight's sleep (which she had been lacking for a good three weeks now) and, if the pounding in her head was anything to go by, she'd say she was beginning to suffer from fatigue.

The buzzer alerted her to the impatience of her visitor. "Alright, I'm coming!" she called out as she rose to go answer the door. She felt like hell, was grumpy as hell, and she'd bet twenty galleons that she looked like hell as well. "Just a minute."

She patted her pocket just to make sure her wand was still there. Though Voldemort had met his downfall by the tip of Harry's wand, there was still a good deal of rogue Death Eaters out there that would do anything to get their hands on one of Harry Potter's best friends, namely her since she was a girl and they considered her feeble and weak.

"Who is it?"

The voice that drifted back to her from the other side sounded just as drained and tired as she was, maybe even more so. "It's Harry."

She quickly undid all the locks and latches, pulling back the door to allow him entrance. "Hey Harry, sorry it took me so long to answer. I just got into some stuff and sort of zoned out." Not technically a lie since she had been researching quite a bit when she had zoned out and promptly fell asleep.

"It's okay, Hermione," was all he said as he walked past her into the small room in her cheap flat which she had converted into a study. Books, parchment, quills, and everything else imaginable was scattered about the place, making her normally untidy place seem practically unliveable. "So, what's the current project?"

"Potions," she answered with a sigh though a small, tired smile began to form at her mouth. "I'm trying to develop a formula for a potion that would enable us to regain our energy faster. That way, we won't be drained whenever we go into a battle. I think I may also be onto a potion that will help us find the rogue Death Eaters faster. You see, it will be drawn to the Dark Mark on their arm and we'll be able to sense where they are and…"

"Hermione, you need to slow down and take a rest. You're wearing yourself out."

"This coming from the boy who stays out almost all night and day looking for rogue Death Eaters." She gave him an impatient look. "I'm trying to help, Harry, and since you and Ron are determined to keep me behind when you go off on your little adventures, this is the only way I can."

Harry placed his hand on her arm. "Hermione, please understand why we want you to stay behind. There are a lot of people out there who would love to hurt you just to get to me. I'm sorry but I just can't take the risk of you being kidnapped, even if it means keeping you under lock and key."

She smirked. "I do have a wand, Harry."

He smiled at her as he moved some papers around on the couch, making enough room for both of them to sit. As he did so, he said softly, "Hermione, I'm going away for a while."

She numbly sat down on the couch and felt him sitting down beside of her. She knew he went out often but he had never sounded so serious about it before. "You're…what? For how long? Where?"

Ron and I are going to New Zealand. We've received some reports of some shady activities occurring there and we're going to go and check it out. We don't know how long exactly we'll be down there but…"

"But it will probably be for a while," she said with a sad sigh. "Fine, I understand. You want me to stay here and sit tight like a good little girl."

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable as he said, "Well, not exactly. You see, I was sort of hoping that you'd move into the Black House."

"But Harry, this is my home," she pointed out. "As messy as it is, it _is_ my home. The Black House is _your_ home; Sirius left it to _you_."

He lifted a hand and ran it through his messy hair. She knew this was a nervous habit of his and instantly wondered what could have him so uptight. "Look," he started as he drew a sheet of paper from his pocket, "this is the deed to the Black House. I've taken the liberty of going ahead and switching it over to your name. I want you to have it."

"I don't understand…"

He picked up her hands. "Hermione, I can't live in that house. Yes, I have accepted his death but I can't…not yet anyways. It's just too soon."

"But one day you might want to live there. Why give it to me?" She rose and walked over to the window which offered her a 'lovely' view of downtown London. "I think you're acting a bit prematurely, Harry."

He came to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder as he drew her back against him. "Accept the house, please. Do this for me, Hermione. I need to keep the house close but I can't own it."

She bit her lower lip and turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his own waist and hugging him tightly. "Fine, Harry," she muttered into his chest, "I'll take the damn house if it will make you happy."

Her head moved against his chest as he chuckled mellifluously. "Oh Hermione, I am going to miss you while I'm gone." She felt his hands on her shoulders and him pushing her away just enough to look down at her. He pressed a kiss to her brow. "Promise to keep in touch while I'm gone."

She nodded. "I will. You just remember to keep yourself safe and to come back."

When Harry left her fifteen minutes later, he had accomplished to draw a promise out of her that she would transfer all of her stuff by nightfall. She knew she had only agreed to this to soothe his conscience about her safety but she couldn't help but wonder if something bigger might just come out of this….

**XoXoX**

_That's it, the last box_. She flung herself down on the couch and merely laid there, staring at the ceiling. The Order had long since departed this place as their Headquarters and it was slowly sinking back into its decrepit state. Some serious cleaning was needed.

"Alright, time to get off my lazy arse and so some cleaning," she told herself. She stood up and looked around at the sorry state of just the sitting room. "Ugh, maybe tomorrow," she corrected before promptly falling back onto the couch and closing her eyes for the first good night's sleep she had in years.

Fifteen hours later, Hermione finally stirred on the couch, blinking her eyes open slowly. She glanced at her wristwatch, a present from her late parents, and jumped up in a frenzy. She had never slept like that before…

"Alright," she paused, her hand on her forehead, "what was I going to do? Oh right… clean." She looked around. "Oh Merlin, where do I even start?"

_Right_, she thought, _first sign of loneliness- talking to yourself_. She picked up some dusters and set them to work. She had neither the time nor the workers to do it all by hand. So, why her magical staff were cleaning, she began to shift through the stuff.

She was surprised by the stuff she found. It was apparent by the stuff she stumbled across that the Black family was deeper into the Dark Arts than originally thought. Some of the relics she found were very interesting. She stored them away for future observation. They could prove beneficial to some of her studies…

She made her way up the stairs, past her old rooms. She had placed a charm on that room during the summer before her fifth year that would keep the room clean. She passed Harry and Ron's old room, she would tackle that later. She bypassed Fred and George's old room, she didn't even want to step foot in there.

She came upon a room that she had never been in before. She didn't know who it belonged to, she had never seen it before so she had never questioned it. She opened the door slowly and peeked in.

Dreary.

The room looked completely inhabitable. Black cloths draped over the windows. The bed sat in the darkest corner of the room. The whole room just reminded her of one of those long, forgotten haunted house rooms. Actually, the room would have looked perfect in the Shrieking Shack.

She slowly walked into the room, fingering the dusty surfaces. She looked around the room, there was so little in it. It looked as if someone had suddenly picked up all of their stuff and fled. However, she knew that there was always something forgotten in haste.

The desk caught her eye, probably because it was the only item in the room that did not look haggard and worn. She slowly held out a hand and instantly felt the spells on the desk- anti-aging, shield, and protection.

"Alright, let's see what you hide."

She pulled out the chair and took a seat. She felt the warmth of the spells wrap around her. She pulled open the drawers slowly, shifting through the contents. Nothing of great importance or interest caught her eye.

She was about to give up the search when she pulled out the last drawer and stumbled across a midnight blue journal with stars etched across the front. They were moving slowly as if orbit. She was mystically transfixed by the book, feeling spookily drawn to it.

She laid the book on the desk and carefully scanned it for any charms that would hurt her. She found none which made her a little nervous. This house was a source of the Dark Arts and yet this book drew her to it. She had to open it.

The book was completely blank. There was nothing on the front page, nor on the second, or third, fourth, and so on and so forth. She leaned back in the chair and studied the book. Why would anyone keep a book such as this one and not write in it?

It was utterly bizarre.

Maybe it was like Lord Voldemort's journal, she thought, and she needed to write in it before it would reveal its secret. However, before she even had the chance to touch the quill to the paper, she pricked the tip of her finger on the sharp point.

"Ow!" she gasped as the quill dropped from her hand and a trickle of blood ran down her finger. She looked around for a rag to wipe the blood from her hand, but didn't make it in time. Before she could stop it, the blood dripped from her fingers and onto the page.

"Damn it," she muttered, quickly wrapping a cloth around her finger. She went to the bathroom and stuck her finger under the faucet. She found a little balm in the cabinet and an adhesive strip to put on the small cut. She cursed under her breath as she stomped back to the room.

The book was no longer empty.

On the first page, which she could of sworn was just blank, was now filled with words. She stared at the book, trying to will herself to go over and read the words but found she couldn't move.

"Oh, suck it up Hermione," she snapped at herself. "It is just a book, not a bloody dementor. It can't possibly suck your soul…can it?"

Slowly and surely, she walked over to it, her hands outstretched towards it. She picked it up and held it close to her face, the words burning into her memory.

_My dearest and most faithful friend,_

_Though you cannot write back or even understand a bloody word I depict upon this page, I feel that it is with the utmost importance that I keep you well informed as to what is occurring within these walls alone. The world is in chaos, but my family is in ruins. My mother storms about the place acting as if she were Merlin himself, deciding the fate I shall meet. But it is no secret that I am a disappointment. She knows of my true feelings and had made it known on more than one occasion that my rebellion would not be tolerated if I decide to take it one step farther. If she thinks that I am going to lie down like a wounded dog then she is sadly mistaken. I will break free from this prison, from her. I know a place where I may seek refuge, but for how long, I am not sure._

_Journal, if I hadn't of stumbled upon you that day in Diagon Alley, I should never have had anyone to spill my secrets to. It is imperative that my words remain hidden for now, at least until I find my escape. One day I will read over these words and remember with a good mind that _you_ were my refuge. _

_She is coming…_

Hermione stared at the page. There was no telling how old the book was or who the book had belonged to. She slowly turned to the next page where more writing appeared.

_It has been over a year since I had you in my possession. That arse that is unfortunately my brother took you, I know, but we are separated now. He has chosen his path and I have chosen mine. The darkness called to him and he surrendered._

_Sometimes, I've learned, the darkness is just too much until one is fully consumed by its power. I fear one day that I may be drawn down that path just by the blood that flows through me. You are the only one I share my fears with. I know how I would ever bear it if one of my friends learned of my secrets, my fears. For now, I must keep you hidden and safe. Some secrets should remain on the pages of a book._

_I fear now for the world. It is obvious that the current attacks will continue until we spiral into a never-ending vortex of death and destruction. I fear the future if only for the state I may find it in. only by a strike of luck will this veil lift and the light shine through. I wish for this light._

_I have become poetic somewhere along the way. My friends would laugh if they saw this, but I will never show them. No, to the world I shall be carefree and jovial. But to you, my dear friend, it is to you that I will be frank and discuss my concerns for I have many. The world, as we know it, is slowly falling apart and I fear that I cannot stop it. Am I the only one in this world that feels this helpless?_

Hermione turned the page, but it was blank. She didn't know what this meant but something odd was happening. So, with a faint heart and a heavy mind, Hermione picked up the quill and prepared to write.

**XoXoX**

A boy of seventeen set down his quill and lightly blew on the ink. The words only appeared to him so he had no worry of someone discovering his secrets. His brother had tried that once but had failed miserably. This time, however, he wouldn't be so clumsy as to let his journal fall into the wrong hands.

His mind drifted to the current situation. Voldemort was growing stronger with each passing day as his numbers grew. The Aurors were doing their best but, unfortunately, their best wasn't good enough. The Light was falling to the Dark and that would be very, very bad indeed.

He began to rise from his seat but stopped. Something was wrong. The book was glowing faintly as black ink started to fill up the next empty page. Slowly, he sat forwards and began to read.

_**No, you are not the only one to feel helpless. In fact, as I write I find that my two best friends have left me here as they go off to battle our enemies. They treat me as if I am fragile but we all know that I can hold my own. I am helpless, though, in the fact that my fear holds me back. I have seen people die around me and I can't help but wonder, am I next? I am scared of death.**_

_**I don't expect you to write back. Hell, I don't even know how I made your words to appear, but I thought that since this journal was your release that maybe it could be mind as well. I only hope that this war ends soon before too many are lost forever. The world is still falling apart, my dear stranger, and it shows no sign of stopping.**_

The words ended there. The boy sat back and observed the journal. How was it possible that someone was reading _and_ writing in his journal when it was sitting right there in front of him? It was impossible.

Quickly, he picked his quill back up and dipped it into the ink pot, preparing to write.

_I don't know who you are nor do I care. Wait, that is a lie. Who are you and how have you charmed my journal? How are you writing to me in my journal when it is sitting right here in front of me. I demand answers, you fiend. State who you are and what business you have in reading my personal thoughts._

_**Fiend? Why, I have never been called such and I refuse to allow you to call me that. I return the question to you, sir, if you are even that- how are you reading what I am writing when I, in fact, have the journal before me? I believe you are the one who lies, not I. Surely you should state who you are and what wicked tricks you hope to accomplish by doing this.**_

_I assure you most ardently that I am a sir and one especially not prone to lying…except for when the situation calls for it, of course. However, this situation, stranger, is not one I would consider lying about. This journal is a sanctuary for my private thoughts and feelings and you are invading my privacy. So, if you will kindly stop what you are diong then I will retain from scouring the land for you._

**XoXoX**

Hermione read the threat aloud to herself…twice. Was he for real? She didn't know who he was or what he was playing at but she didn't have to put up with it. With a smirk, she dipped her quill into the ink and touched it to the parchment one last time before promptly shutting the book.

Twenty years before hand, the young wizard watched as the words '_Screw you'_ appeared on the page and laughed. At least this mysterious person had some fight in them.

**A/N: This story will only be 5 chapters long. Short and sweet, though it does jump some time between chapters. **

**Much Love,**

**MiZZ AmAyA**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I have to admit to the fact that I do not own Harry Potter OR "The Lake House" because if I didn't then someone could sue me and then I would be in loads of trouble and owe a lot more money than I do now...**

**A/N: As someone so graciously pointed out in a review, this story has a similar plot line to that of "The Lake House". Ya know, two people in two different times falling in love. HOWEVER, big however there, I have never seen the movie so that is as far as that goes. But you get the picture...**

**Chapter 2**

_Tap. Tap._

It just didn't make any sense. It wasn't possible for one thing and not plausible for another. It just couldn't be explained…not by any reasonable explanation at least.

_Tap. Tap._

How does someone explain how they can have a journal, be writing in it, while another person, seemingly miles away, claimed to have the _same_ journal and was writing in it as well? She just didn't understand…

_Tap. Tap._

Dark Magic. Of course it had to be dark magic, what else could explain it? But that would mean that the guy would have to have been in cohorts with Voldemort. Yes, that had to be the explanation….right?

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

But then why had he sounded so sad when he had talked of the world falling apart because of the darkness? Surely someone connected with Voldemort would rejoice in that happening. So, how could she explain that…?

"I swear to Merlin, Hermione, that if that damn muggle contraption hit's the table one more time, I will hex you so bad that Harry will feel horrible for leaving you in my 'tender' care."

Hermione looked up at her redheaded friend. Ginny was quite famous for her fiery temper and she really didn't want to push her luck at the moment. "Sorry, Ginny, just mulling over some things."

Ginny sighed and sat her mug on the coffee table before taking a seat beside of Hermione on the couch. "Alright, spill. The only time you beat your furniture with a pen is when something is bother you, usually something big. So, let's hear it. Oh, and don't even think about lying to me, Hermione. I grew up with six boys, I can tell when someone is lying to me."

Hermione groaned softly. She might as well tell her; Ginny would drag it out of her sooner or later anyways. So, she carefully recounted the previous night's events and waited for the advice she knew would be coming.

Instead she got, "Did you ask him the date?"

She blinked. What the bloody hell was Ginny talking about? Secretly, she wondered whether her friend had one too many this morning. "Pardon?"

"Did you ask him the date?" Ginny repeated, only this time more slowly as if she was speaking to a child. Her blue eyes were sparkling with speculation and something else… something Hermione couldn't identify.

"Sorry, no," she snapped. "Must of forgotten that somewhere between getting called a fiend and being asked to kindly remove my devilish self from the journal. I'll do that tonight."

Ginny didn't even seem phased by Hermione's tongue-lashing. She merely rose from her seat and walked to the door. Just before leaving, though, she said, "You do that."

Hermione sat there staring after her. Sometimes people just made no sense at all. One things was sure, she had a lot of thinking about what she was going to do tonight.

**XoXoX**

The same boy from the previous night's adventure was, in fact, sitting in a similar sitting room thinking the exact same thing…only he was technically thinking it before her with him being in the past and all but that is neither here nor there as neither of our characters knows that little titbit of information…yet.

"Food! I need food!"

The boy turned to look at the source of all the commotion only to find his best friend of seven years sitting in the kitchen complaining. He smiled faintly, some things never changed.

"How come its always when I'm hungry that we mysteriously seem to be out of food?" he continued on. "It's like a bloody curse!"

"Maybe if you would stop eating enough food to feed an army, we'd have enough to get by on until one of us has a change to get to the store."

The teen looked at him incredulously. "You're complaining about my eating habits when you are the one who won the food eating contest five years in a row?"

He smirked. "Would have been seven, too, if they would have allowed me to enter my first two years but, alas, they didn't. Still broke the record. Anyways, that's beside the point. _I_ wasn't the one who ate everything this time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, are we going to get some food or not?"

"No, not now. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Thinking."

"That's a new one."

"Shut up, you idiot."

"Sorry, mutt, can't." He flung himself down on the couch and turned his hazel eyes to his friend. "What are you thinking about? Anything I can help with?"

The boy looked over at his friend, a sad look on his face. "No, not really. This is something I need to take care of myself. Anyways, aren't you supposed to meet your girlfriend in fifteen minutes?"

"Oh Merlin, I forgot! Sorry, got to run!" He made it to the door and sighed, turning around to face his friend once more. "Look, Pads, whatever is bothering you, don't let it get to you."

He nodded. "Thanks, Prongs. Now go meet Lily before she kills you."

**XoXoX**

_**Look, I know you don't trust me and quite frankly, I'm not sure that I trust you all that well myself. However, I must ask you a question: What year is it? I know that may seem bizarre but please do us both a favour and just answer it.**_

_You are a strange one, you know that? I have a right mind just to throw this journal away and forget all about you. I will answer your question, though I really don't know why I'm bothering. The year is 1978. Happy now?_

_**Actually, no, I am very confused at the moment. I think I have figured out our situation though, well, part of it at least…**_

_Really? And what expert conclusion have you arrived at ol' masterful one?_

_**You don't have to be so surfcasting about it. I am just trying to help us both out and you're being an ass about it.**_

_Excuse me if I don't like the fact that you're reading _my_ journal._

**_Minor details. Anyway, I should point out that in _my_ time it is not _your_ journal. It is technically _my_ journal as it is located in _my_ house._**

_Your time? What the bloody hell are you talking about. The year is 1978 and the journal is in _my_ possession in _my_ house…well, flat._

_**Actually, the year is 1998 and, as I said, the journal is in my possession at the moment. I believe we have created some sort of time vortex and we are connected through the journal. I don't know how or why this happened, but I do believe it has happened for a reason.**_

_Why should I trust you? For all I know, you could be working for the Dark side and this could all be a trap._

_**Right back at you.**_

_What real proof can you offer that would make me want to trust you?_

_**Honestly, none, but I don't know whether I can trust you either. Call it instinct or insanity, but I believe there is a reason we are able to communicate through this journal. There has to be some logical explanation for it all.**_

_Let's go with insanity. Fine, I'll go along with your 'conclusion'…for now. But let's get this straight- you might have been able to break into my journal, but if I find out that this is a trap, I will never rest until you pay for your deceit. Who are you anyways? You know more about me than I do about you._

_**Actually, I don't know all that much about you. However, I think it is safe to say that neither trusts the other enough yet to give our real first names so just let it be known that I am a woman and I share the same opinions as you on the war. Maybe one day we will be able to trust each other but for now, I think it is best if we only reveal small details. Sorry, I have to go. I am running late for a meeting. Goodbye.**_

**XoXoX**

_Back so soon? It's only been what? Four hours?_

_**And I suppose you've been waiting patiently by the journal for all of those four hours, right?**_

_Well…not _all_ fours hours, no. Wait, why am I explaining myself to you? Anyways, did you have fun at your 'meeting'? What took you so long?_

_**Though I don't know why **I_ **_should explain myself to you, but I went out with a friend after the meeting for a cup of tea and a bite to eat. We started chatting about this and that and simply lost track of time._**

_Call me trusting, but I'm going to hazard a guess and say you were out with a girl friend and not a guy. But that doesn't matter. You should feel very bad about leaving me here all by my lonesome. My roommate went out with his girlfriend and my other friends are…otherwise detained. I've had no source of entertainment._

_**So I'm just a source of entertainment to you? Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special. I am sorry, though, that you were left alone. If it wasn't for this friend, I think that I would go insane. My two best friends hardly come around anymore. They're too busy off fighting to even take notice of me, but I still miss them. I just wish that I understood them better.**_

_If they're your friend then they shouldn't be avoiding you. Friends stick together no matter what. That's just one of those little facts in life. They should realize how much you need them and do everything in their power to be there for you._

_**Others need them more than me, I understand that. It's just…**_

_It's hard to accept sometimes, but don't you see you shouldn't have to accept it. They are your friends and should be there to hear how you feel instead of making you think that the only person you can tell is some stranger in a journal._

Hermione stared at his words. He was absolutely right. No matter how much the world needed them, they should still be there for her, to help her, to understand her.

_Hey? Are you still there? I'm sorry if I offended you in any way._

_**No, you haven't offended me. You've just made me open my eyes to a truth that I was too afraid to accept. Look, it's almost one in the morning. I really need to get some rest. Thank you though, for everything.**_

_You're welcome. Goodnight._

**XoXoX**

Hermione watched as the two owls flew out of sight. She had kept her promise and had wrote to Harry while thinking of the words her stranger had wrote. The other owl was carrying a package- one extremely large box packed with Chocolate frogs for Ron. He would care less for a letter, she knew.

It had been three days since she had last opened the journal. Three days since she had spilt her feelings to a complete and unknown person from the past. Three days since she had had a good night's sleep.

Ginny was the only person who knew about the journal and she was planning on keeping it that way. She knew that the instant someone found out, they would want to cart it off somewhere to have it tested. She didn't want to lose this mysterious connection…not yet.

She could hear a gentle and yet persistent hum at night and knew that he was trying to contact her. Though the journal sat motionless on the desk, she could feel the gentle pull of it. She fought it off every night though. She needed time to think.

But he needed her. She could feel his need to talk to her, his need for her. He needed to know she was there for him and she could not deny him any longer.

Slowly she rose from her seat by the window and made the familiar trek to the bedroom. She had not touched a single thing in the room except for the star covered journal. She felt that the room was his and she shouldn't touch his possessions…well, anymore of them.

Sure enough, the journal was humming quite happily as she reached for it, the sheer power of it encasing her. She opened it up slowly to where his hurried script spread across the page.

_Where are you? I do wish that you'd come back. I apologize again if I have offended you. I am sincerely sorry. I cannot apologize enough._

_Are you hurt? I laid in my bed last night, tossing and turning, while imagining different scenarios, each with you ending up getting severely hurt. I don't even know what you look like or your name and yet here I am, worrying myself sick over your absence. We don't even exist in the same time for Merlin's sake! I do hope my fascination with you ends soon. _

_Please, I beg you as I have never begged before, talk to me. Tell me of your life, your worries, your pain. Please, trust me as I am beginning to trust you. Just…come back. Please._

Hermione stared at the words, letting them wash over her. She then picked up her discarded quill and uncapped her bottle of ink.

No, she didn't know who he was, but she trusted him.

_**I'm here and it is I who must apologize. After our last discussion, my mind has been occupied. I have never been so candid with anyone before, friend or stranger, and yet I find myself wanting to spill my innermost thoughts and secrets to you night after night. Please understand why I needed just a little time to think.**_

_I assure you, my lady, that I do understand. Let us forget the apologies and speak openly with one another. Tell me, have you heard from your friends? What of the current situation?_

_**My friends? No, I have not heard from them yet. They are unsure as to how long they will be where they are and if they'll even be able to write me. They warned me as much before they even left. I dare say that they won't be back for a while.**_

_**As for the situation, well, it grows worse everyday. The battles grow more fierce; more lives are lost with each passing day, something we were sure was over. I doubt it will ever really be as it was before. **_

_**He is dead, but the fear he instilled turns everyone into fools. That is what we are battling now…an impossible battle that will most likely end in our defeat.**_

_That is what your friends are fighting? Common people or fear?_

_Doesn't matter, there is no peach either way. The situation is the same here only everyone is in a frenzy. He dominates everyone's thoughts and uses that knowledge to instil fear. Few are willing to boldly speak out against him and even fewer will fight. It's a growing epidemic._

_I don't know how this world will ever get better. But I have faith. You see, you have told me yourself that he will die. Though the world will still be in a panic, at least he will be gone. That is a start for change. That, my dear lady, will be the point when light can finally fill in the shadows._

Hermione drew in a deep breath as she thought over the words before her. She ran her left hand through her messy hair while her right hand, the one holding the quill, reached back out towards the next blank space on the page.

_**We can only hope.**_

!**A/N**!

**In case ya'll didn't figure it out, the **_Italics_** is Sirius and the _Bold Italics_ is Hermione. If you want to know why it's going to take me a bit to update, refer to my A/N in the latest chapter of CY...**

**So, without further ado, review! lol... I rhymed. **

Much love,

**MiZZ AmAyA**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Summary: Two worlds, two different times, two different people and yet they are connected through a journal. Love extends beyond time to bring two people together in The Black House. SBHG**

**Beta: Meridith-R.E.M. Thank you!**

**NOTE: This is a repost because Fanfiction won't let some of you read it. I know exactly how you feel since I can't open up the updates to some of the stories that I am currently reading. I'm sorry that you couldn't open it up.**

**READ ME! Alright, so I gave into temptation and started another story. I launched a sort of 'pilot' chapter in my live journal so if you guys have time, head over there really quick and check it out. Be sure to tell me whether you think I should continue. The link can be found in my profile.**

**Chapter 3**

It had been exactly three weeks since she had found the journal. Three weeks since she had last saw Harry or Ron. Three weeks since she had stumbled upon one more person whom she could trust with her deepest and darkest secrets.

Hermione had taken to life at the Black House. Her normal fast paced life had slowed down considerably. She still did a lot of private research, but she didn't devote every waking moment to it as she did before. She spent more time just kicking back and, though she never admitted it, she knew that her new lifestyle was because of her stranger in the journal.

She was currently stretched out on the couch waiting for Ginny to drop by. The youngest redhead Weasley had owled earlier that morning informing Hermione that she was coming by and to not even think about leaving. In truth, Hermione had been avoiding Ginny since their little discussion three weeks ago.

The door buzzer went off and, before she could even rise from her seat, the door was opening. She leaned back on the couch, silently thanking whoever had came up with the idea to throw a can of paint thinner on the portrait of Mrs. Black.

"You will never believe the traffic outside," the redhead was grumbling as she walked into the room. "It was like every muggle in England was on the street today. Do you realize how hard it is to enter a secret house when there is a ton of people outside."

Hermione offered her a smile. "At least they're outside. When Voldemort lived, people were too afraid to even step outside of their homes. Now they are starting to venture out; they are starting to forget. We really should be thankful."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I am thankful," the redhead replied. "It's just that I'd be more thankful if they would have done it at a better time."

"Oh Ginny," Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Anyways, as you can tell, I'm tired, so if we could just please discuss the matter which you wish to discuss, _I'd _ be thankful."

Ginny's blue eyes narrowed on her firend, but she took a seat by the hearth. "Hermione, I haven't seen you for three weeks. First you dropped the bombshell that Harry had gave you the Black House, then you tell me about some mysterious journal with a guy in it who talked to you, and then you disappear."

Hermione merely quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?" Ginny demanded with frustration tinting her voice. "I want to know what the bloody hell happened, Hermione!"

She shrugged this time. "I'm still talking to him."

Hermione had never thought a person could level her with a stare for that long without blinking. "Fine, I still talk to him…a lot. I don't know, Ginny. I like him, I trust him. I feel like I can tell him everything and he listens."

"I listen."

"I know that and I'm glad that you're here, but there are some things that I can't tell you. He doesn't live in this year so it's not like I have to worry about him spilling my secrets…no one would ever believe him."

"So he is from a different time."

"1978 actually."

"Wow, twenty years." Ginny paused. "Hermione, how do you know he's not some Death Eater tricking you?"

"I don't really," she answered with a thoughtful look, "but I trust him, Ginny. For some insane reason, I trust him."

Ginny studied her closely. "You have feelings for him, don't you?"

Hermione gave a dry laugh. "It's ironic, isn't it? The one man I can never meet is the one man I want to give my whole heart to." She looked at her hands and added softly, "I don't even know his name."

"Ask him."

Hermione looked at her friend, confused. "What?"

"You heard me, ask him. Actually, no, just tell him your name," she added on an after thought. "That shows that you're willing to take the first step."

"Ginny, we're living twenty years apart."

"That's just a minor detail."

"I don't know…"

"Just do it. I mean, who's to say he isn't still alive?" Ginny's eyes sparkled. "He could still be alive out there somewhere and you could meet him. That's always a possibility."

"But he could be dead," Hermione pointed out.

Ginny merely shrugged. "You'll never know until you ask."

Hermione looked up at her friend, slowly nodding her head. Without a word, she watched as Ginny gathered up her things and left. Hermione's thoughts were on the journal.

Would it really hurt to tell him her name? Would he tell her his?

There were so many possibilities and only one way to find out…

**XoXoX**

Sirius frowned slightly as he read over the letter he had just received from St. Mungo's. His mum had finally died and the Black House was entrusted to him, at least until Regulus came of age. However, not one thing in the letter mentioned what would happen when Regulus did come of age.

Not that he wanted the house, of course; it could burn down for all he cared.

No, he just liked everything to be in writing so there could be no cause for arguing later on. And with the family he had, he figured that there would be a lot of arguing over who got what.

He sat the letter down and rubbed his chin. Regulus wasn't seventeen yet so unless he could convince his younger brother to go stay somewhere else, he would have to move back home to take care of him.

There were a lot of worse things, he reckoned, but the Black House was an unwanted memory. He didn't want to return…not yet.

"Sirius? You up, mate?" James called through the oak door. Though it was at least one in the afternoon, it wasn't unusual for Sirius to still be in bed. It was the weekend after all.

"Yeah, I'm up. Come on in."

He waited as the door slowly creaked open and an untidy mop of black hair poked its way through. "What are you doing in here still? We figured that you'd come play a little Quidditch with us as soon as you got up."

James was smiling and Sirius hated breaking his good mood, but he figured that he should tell him the news he had just received, sooner rather than later.

"Mum's dead."

"Oh." The teen shifted nervously at the door. He knew that Sirius hated his mum, but he figured that it still must be hard to lose his parent. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," he waved him off, "we weren't that close, remember? Anyways, I'm responsible for Regulus now until he comes of age."

"Good luck with that one," James said. "I highly doubt Regulus will be all that happy with having you appointed his guardian."

Sirius merely shrugged as he stood from his chair. "He'll just have to get used to it. It's not like I wanted the position."

James nodded slowly. "True, but I don't expect he'll exactly be open minded about the whole thing. He'll blame you."

Sirius threw him a look as if to say 'I could care less' and shrugged on his jacket. "I'm going to try to convince him to go stay the rest of the holiday with a friend. That way, both of us win."

James smiled a little. "That shouldn't be too hard."

"Maybe, maybe not." Sirius gathered up a few items. "He may insist on remaining at the house just to make trouble for me. That's what I would do anyways."

James moved a little further into the room as Sirius withdrew an overnight bag from the closet. "I gather you're not coming back tonight."

"Highly doubtful," Sirius commented, now extracting clothes from the closet. "Even if Regulus does go stay with a friend, there's still some things I'll have to take care of at the house…as much as I loathe to do so."

"Then you better take this.'

Sirius turned around to find James holding out his journal. He had broke down eventually and told James everything about the mysterious girl, they were best friends after all. James understood his need to communicate with his lady from the future far better than Sirius had expected.

He took the journal from James' grasp and slowly sat down on the bed. He held it firmly in his hands, marvelling at how one book could be a connection between two times.

"Sirius," James was saying, his words slow and deliberate, "what if she's lying to you? What if it's a trick? Regulus did have your journal for a while…"

His grey eyes turned to look at his best friend. "What can I say? I trust her."

James furrowed his eyebrows as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "But what if she's not real, Padfoot? What if it's just someone, most likely a Death Eater, pretending to be someone else to hurt you? To get to you?"

Sirius smiled at his friend and laid a hand on James' shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Don't worry about me, mate. I can handle myself."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation," James said in an agitated tone. "You have to think that this may be a trick. How do you know she's real?"

"She's more real to me than anything I've ever known," he stated seriously, his grey eyes never wavering from James.

The messy hair teen sighed dramatically. "Then all I can say is good luck and hope that you don't fall in love with her."

The corner of Sirius' mouth twitched up in a wry smile. "I think it's too late for that."

**XoXoX**

_I'm so glad that you're finally here. I've had a very long and very bad day. _

_**What happened?**_

_I have went from being a very in depended person to becoming the guardian of the one person who probably hates me most in this world- my brother. I don't know what he's complaining about, though, it's not like I asked for our mum to suddenly die and have him left in my care. _

_I do well to care for myself, I really don't need another human being on my hands._

_It has suddenly dawned on me why people hate lawyers, whether they be magical or muggle. The lawyer in charge of my current situation is, for lack of a better term, an ass. He had the nerve to sit there, all high and mighty, informing me of what my duty as the oldest son is though we both know what my mum thought of me._

_Actually, come to think of it, the whole wizarding world knew what my mum thought of me._

_I know, you're probably sitting there thinking "That's his job" and I know, I guess I just don't understand why I, the hated son, has to take care of anything._

_Thank Merlin, though, that my brother went along with my suggestion that he go stay with another family until we make a more permanent decision as what to do. I really don't think I could handle him at the moment on top of everything else._

_**I am so sorry about your mum, your brother, and well, just about everything really. I went through similar proceedings when my parents died five months ago. Only I'm an only child so I have no siblings to think of.**_

_**Things will get better. Trust me, I know. The future may seem bleak but there is always a speck of light that shines through. **_

_**I do hope everything works out though. **_

_Thank you._

_**Hermione.**_

_What?_

_**My name, it's Hermione. **_

_**I just…well, I just wanted to tell you. I told you before that I didn't trust you and that's why I wouldn't give you my name, but now I do. **_

_**That sounds crazy, though, doesn't it? I mean, we've never met or anything and yet I trust you…completely.**_

_No, that doesn't sound crazy. I'm glad that you trust me because I trust you as well. We may never meet, Hermione, but we _know_ each other and that is the important thing._

_**Yes, I guess you're right.**_

_I know I am. By the way, name's Sirius_

**XoXoX**

Hermione pulled back sharply, visibly stiffening in her seat as the black ink spread across the page. Sirius? There was only Sirius that she knew of…one who was dead.

But it sort of made sense…. She did, after all, find the journal in the Black House, the house which he had been in his possession up until his death. He was the oldest brother, he hated his family…it just made sense…

Why hadn't she put it all together before?

Forcing herself to pick up her quill, she touched the tip to the page.

_**Sirius Black?**_

_Yeah, that's right. How did you know? Wait, future._

_So, you _do_ know me then, right? Or am I famous? You probably can't tell me…_

_**Yeah, I know you. Actually, you're my best friend's godfather, but that's all I can tell you. I can't believe that I'm actually talking to you.**_

_It's fate._

_**Doubt that. **_

_**Look, just remember to store the journal in the Black House or else I'll never find it.**_

_But I'm leaving here tomorrow. Are you suggesting that I leave the book behind? But then we'll never talk until I see you in the future. I want to talk to you, Hermione. I can't leave the book behind._

_**You have to. Look, like you said, we'll see each other again. Just don't expect me to remember this. I won't find your journal until I'm eighteen.**_

_Fine._

_**Thank you, Sirius, for being the comfort that I needed. You have taught me some very valuable lessons- most importantly that it's okay to love. Thank you for that.**_

_I refuse to say goodbye, Hermione._

_**Then don't. It's not really goodbye, anyways. It's more of a 'see you later.' We will meet again, Sirius, only in person. Our paths will cross and who knows what the future will bring.**_

_I will find you, Hermione. I promise you that I will find you._

_**I'm counting on it. I promise that we will not lose each other again. No matter what I have to do, I will not lose you. I love you, Sirius Black. Against my better judgement, I love you.**_

_I love you too._

**XoXoX**

As Hermione closed the book, she allowed her tears to fall. Yes, they would find each other once again but he would be stolen away before she ever truly learned the truth about the journal, the truth about them. Fate could be cruel sometimes.

But she'd be damned if she would just sit by this time as fate played its little game. She was going to do something…

She replaced the journal inside of its rightful desk drawer and sealed it shut. She didn't know what brought them together but she was glad for it. She had learned to love once again, and had been loved in return.

With a new determination, she rose from her seat and walked out of the room. She had to get started…


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Once upon a time, there was this young boy named Harry Potter. He lived with me for a while in which we spent time together, and then sadly a woman by the name of J.K. Rowling came around and demanded that I return him to her. **

**Chapter 4**

The papers strewn about disastrously made the already small room seem a lot smaller in retrospect. A number of empty ink bottles of every colour imaginable were spread across the room. Broken and dull quills, muggle pens, calculating devices, a good number of books on a range of different topics, and other such contraptions could be found in the room as well.

Hermione sat in the middle of it, dark rings under her eyes, scribbling furiously on the parchments scattered in front of her. She would occasionally pause in her work to take a sip of the large mug of cold tea in front of her. It had been hot once upon a time…about seventeen hours ago.

If anyone had taken a real close look at her, they would have noticed that her eyes looked haunted, the brown orbs seeing without really seeing. However, her two best friends were out of the country for Merlin knows how long and Ginny probably wouldn't stop by for another week or so, so really there was no one who would notice the difference.

So, she really wasn't worried about someone stumbling across her in her delirious state. In fact, she wasn't really worried about anything at all. Truth be known, she wasn't really aware of anything but the task before her.

It had been seven day since her last conversation with Sirius Black, the last forever unless she succeeded. As soon as she had shut the journal for that last time, she had come to an unconscious decision.

She was going to bring Sirius back.

She had privately acknowledged that it wasn't going to be an easy task. That was one of the reasons she hadn't wanted Ginny to come over. She was afraid that the redhead would be able to talk her out of what she was doing.

She paused momentarily to stare at the figures she had just wrote on the parchment in front of her- no room left to write anymore- and mentally calculated the figures in her head.

Something was off, she knew, but what?

Various Arithmancy problems raced through her head as she put together different equations and formats. If she moved that there…those figures there…maybe switching those two…

No, that wouldn't work there. The figures would just unbalance each other and they would…

She slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. How could she have been so stupid as to not see what was right there in front of her? It was that simple. All she had to do was…

"Hermione?"

The bushy haired witch visibly stiffened at the sound of the voice…his voice. He was here, behind her, now…but why?

After the initial shock of his voice wore off, she slowly turned around to face her late night visitor. She hadn't expected to see him- he looked different. "Hello Harry."

He let out an audible oath as he quickly shortened the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his emerald eyes sweeping over her. "Merlin, Hermione, what have you done to yourself?"

Hermione offered him a very feeble, very unconvincing smile. "Nothing," she answered with a dismissive shrug, "I just caught up in work and I sort of forgot about everything else."

He raised a brow and asked, "Even life?"

She chuckled half-heartedly. "I guess I have…," she muttered, scratching her head lightly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I guess I have been neglecting…hey, why are you here?"

He grinned at her as he released her face, propping himself against the desk. "Is that the best 'welcome home' I can get? Here I thought that you'd be glad to see me."

Hermione felt herself smiling even as she rose from her chair, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck and hugging him tightly. "Welcome home, Harry, I've missed you more than you could possibly imagine." She leaned back. "How was that?"

He laughed. "That was perfect."

"Now, what are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting one of my best friends after just arriving by plane from New Zealand," he answered. "Even though I'm dead tired, I drug myself over here to see you."

"A plane?" she asked confused. "Why in Merlin's name didn't you take a portkey like a normal and sane wizard, eh?"

"Because Ron wouldn't stop badgering me until I agreed to take it back with him," Harry grumbled though he still had a small smile on his face. "He's changed his tune now."

"Jet lag?" she questioned.

"Yep," he replied with a large grin now. "But though I can now bask in his misery, I'm suffering from the exact same thing. I'm fighting the urge to just go to sleep."

"Poor baby," she cooed, her eyes glinting mischievously as she patted his cheeks. Then, she softened, "Would you like to stay here for the night? I've fixed most of the rooms up so you can have whatever one you want."

"I think I'll take you up on that offer." He hugged her close, then, his breath tickling her throat. "What's wrong, Hermione? I can tell something is."

"Nothing's wrong," she instantly denied. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Your last letter," was his reply. "You didn't sound like yourself. That's why I hurried and finished so I could come back and check on you."

Hermione pulled away from him and turned away. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "It's really nothing, Harry," she lied. "I'm just…working on some stuff."

He looked around the room slowly with a single appraising brow raised. "I can tell that." He leaned over the desk and picked up a piece of parchment, scanning over it quickly. "So, what are you working on?"

She plucked the parchment from his fingers. "Stuff," she answered vaguely with just a little bit of defensiveness in her tone.

"My, my, you sure are a talkative one this evening," he remarked sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her.

Hermione grimaced. "Sorry, Harry, lack of sleep."

And just like that, she dismissed the whole subject. She was sure that that feeble excuse would explain her whole attitude. Which, in part, it did since she had been suffering from fatigue (she was sure) and had been forcing herself to stay awake.

He continued to watch her, his green eyes unnerving after a while. However, he only sighed and shook his head sadly. "Hermione, you know that I would do anything to help you, right? You can trust me."

Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his chest. "I know, Harry, and I'm sorry. This is just something that I have to do on my own."

She leaned back and smiled up at him. "Don't worry, though, I think I have it finally figured out. Tomorrow, you'll understand. Tonight, just accept that what I'm doing, well, it'll be good for a lot of people, you especially."

"Alright, you win…for tonight. Tomorrow, I'm going to expect some answers."

She gasp in mock surprise. "Are you giving up so quickly? Wow, I expected a little more fight out of you."

"Any other time, I would be willing to oblige you, but right now I just want a warm bed." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Night, Hermione. Try to get some sleep."

She watched as he mounted the stairs until he was out of view. Only then did she pick up three sheets of parchment and her cloak, heading out of the door with a look of determination on her face.

She only prayed that this would work…

**XoXoX**

The Ministry of Magic was usually a very busy place, especially after the war. Usually it was hard to walk through the halls without having to squeeze through the people. However, at night it was a completely different story.

It was completely empty.

Of course, there was one single person walking down through the halls, sticking to the shadows and being careful not to set off any wards. Since she had helped set up most of them, she figured that they would be relatively easy for her to get past.

She walked down the long hallway, her destination the single door in front of her.

As she walked, her mind went over the steps she would have to follow for her plan to work, if it even worked at all. According to all of her calculations, it should, but then magic worked in mysterious ways.

She walked through the door without even knowing it and continued on through the next door, her mind not even registering her surroundings or the fact that room had automatically known the room that she needed.

However, it was not the room she had been heading towards.

When she heard the sound of the door slamming shut behind her, Hermione finally took notice of her surroundings and was shocked by them. She was in a room of pure light, bright light that was blinding.

She turned around to go back out the door but it was no longer there. She drew her wand, intending to do a revealing spell, but found that it did not work.

"As you may have gathered, magic does not work in here."

Hermione jumped as she spun around, her body instantly going into a fight stance since she couldn't use magic. She almost fell over, though, at the person standing behind her.

She pointed at him, her face disbelieving, and said, "You're dead."

His blue eyes sparkled as the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Yes, Hermione, I am dead, but then, in some places I'm not. Such as here."

He opened his arms and gestured around to the empty space around them. She followed the movement of his hands and gazed around slowly. "And where exactly is here?" she questioned.

"This is a room in the Ministry that, up until now, has remained lock to all but those who needed its guidance," he answered, folding his hands neatly behind his back.

"I don't need guidance," she replied defiantly. "I know exactly what I have to do. So, if you could just let me out of here I'll be on my way…"

"You came here with a particular someone in mind, did you not?" His blue eyes were twinkling once more as he strode slowly towards her. "You came here determined to free someone who was once imprisoned here by a greater force than you understand."

Hermione nodded somewhat hesitantly and answered with a soft, "Yes."

He stared at her for a moment or two. Finally, he said, "Your plan will not work."

She looked up at him shocked. "What are you talking about? I checked all of the figures multiple times…it has to work!" she cried out in desperation. In truth, she was out of ideas. This was the last possible way that she could think of.

He shook his head. "No, Hermione, it won't." He stopped when he was right in front of her and looked about them. "To complete your task, you must understand something- a force that for a long time you have been afraid of. That force makes up this room."

"I don't understand…"

"Think, Hermione," he urged, taking her hands up in his. "This room, this power exists in everyone though in some it remains dormant through most of their mortal life. It is what drives up, but we do not realize it. It is what drives you."

Hermione continued to shake her head. "I don't know…"

"Hermione, why did you even waste your time to save Mr. Black?" he pressed. "Why did you come here at this time of night when you could surely be spending your time with Harry now that he is back in the country."

Hermione looked at him, understanding in her eyes and something else…something powerful. "Because I love him, sir. I love Sirius."

He smiled. "That, Hermione, is the only thing that can bring him back. This," he gestured, "is emotion, this is feeling, this is love. This is what compelled you to save Sirius, and this is the only thing that can save him. Your formulas will not work."

"But how do I save him, sir?"

He grinned, his eyes still twinkling behind the half moon spectacles as a phoenix rose from behind him to rest on his shoulder. "By loving him," he answered as Fawkes suddenly shot up from his shoulder and burst into glorious flames.

She had to shield her eyes against the sudden burst of flames and light. The flames seemed to lick around her, wrapping her in its embrace. There was no heat, surprising, only this warm sensation that filled her from her head to the tips of her toes.

When the light finally dimmed enough to where she was brave enough to open her eyes back up, Hermione noticed that neither Albus Dumbledore or Fawkes stood before her. She also noticed that she was no longer in the Ministry of Magic.

She was in the Black House.

**XoXoX**

Harry James Potter considered himself a very perceptive soul. He had been somewhat in tune to people's feelings since right before the final battle when he had been preparing himself for battle and had accidentally messed up a potion, causing it to blow up and spill all over him.

After he had slept off the initial effects of the potion, he had discovered that he had the ability to read people's emotions, sort of like an empath. He didn't tell anyone, though. No, that was one special power he kept to himself.

However, it was because of this ability of his that he knew something was badly wrong with Hermione. He could see in it the way her eyes were dull with loss of something, how her body slumped dejectedly, and he could feel how her mind was on the brink of giving up.

When he had first read her last letter, he had felt her pain in the writing. She was suffering from something, some loss, and he knew that she would undoubtedly shut up herself unless someone was there to help her.

He had trouble convincing Ron, though, that they had to hurry up with their mission without revealing that little fact about himself. He had managed to in the end with a little threat of leaving the redhead behind, not that he would of course. He had planned on dragging Ron all the way back to England if he didn't agree.

And now he was back and he had conformation of her state. She looked a little worse for wear and had been skirting around the issue. He had gave in to her, though, and allowed her a small victory in agreeing to wait for the morning to discuss it.

But now that he was done with his shower and heard no movement downstairs, he wasn't sure that that was the best thing to do. Sure enough, when he descended the stairs in a pair of boxers and an oversized shirt, she was no where to be seen, neither was her cloak.

He ran back up the stairs, peeking into various doors as he went to see if she was in one of those. "Hermione!" he shouted frantically. He walked past his old rooms, the rooms he was currently occupying, and on down the hall.

He stopped, though, when an odd feeling suddenly hit him from behind one of the doors, a door that had always remained closed even when Sirius owned the house. It was a feeling off old, of new…of something more powerful too.

Love.

He turned to the door to see a faint light shining under it. He lifted a hand and hesitantly touched it to the wood, feeling the warmth radiate through him from within.

Yes, definitely love.

He grasped the doorknob firmly in his hand and twisted it, pushing open the door with all his might since an incredible force seemed to be pushing back against it. The light was near blinding but the gentle licks of the flames now issuing from within encouraged him.

When he finally managed to get the door all the way open, the light went out and the flames extinguished. He blinked against the sudden loss of light.

"Hermione?"

But the figure that stood before him was not Hermione. No, the figure before him was a familiar one, if not a little different from the last time that he saw him.

"Hello Harry."

**You all know what I want so I'm just going to leave you to it :D. Oh, stop by my LJ to see the awesome layout that was done for me by the wonderful ninetimesten or Raspberri13. Really, it's quite awesome.**

**Cheerios and Spaghetti O's,**

**MiZZ AmAyA**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I would just like to take a moment and say that, though their are many discrepencies, the life of a man...what? I'm in the wrong place? Oh...er...yeah, sorry, I don't own Harry Potter. Happy now?**

**READ ME! Okay, this is the LAST chapter, ya'll. I told you at the beginning that this was a SHORT story. I never expected to have so many people actually like this, nor did I realize the number of threats I would get through my email for not updating. Anyways, here's the final chapter.**

**Chapter 5**

The tears formed a steady line as they ran down her cheek. Crystal blue in colour and yet they contained no emotion. They were tears of numbness, of failure.

Hermione slowly forced herself to move away from the doorway into the study, away from the work she had been working so diligently on thinking that it would bring Sirius back. But she had failed…she had failed him.

Her feet felt heavy as she moved up the stairs, one hand gripping the railing for support. Her knees buckled slightly as a sob would rise up in her throat, only to be fought back down again.

She wouldn't trouble Harry with her pain.

She walked up the stairs and opened the door to her rooms, slipping into the darkness easily. As soon as the door closed behind her, her emotions betrayed her. One large sob built up in her throat and she collapsed to the ground, sliding down the door.

She curled her knees up to her chest, resting her head against them as she allowed her tears to overtake her. She didn't like this weakness, but she could not fight it any longer.

She closed her eyes against the world, allowing the slumber that had been beckoning to overcome her. Her head lolled back against the hard wood of the door, exhaustion finally winning.

It would be late morning before she would finally stir from her position on the floor and even then she still just wanted to sleep. It took her a moment or two to finally figure out what had awoken her.

Someone was calling her name.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she tried to rise. It would take her three times to gain her balance and keep herself from tumbling over.

She placed one hand to her forehead. She felt weak and tired, her bones ached terribly and she just didn't feel good at all. Maybe she was getting the flu…

"Hermione!"

"Coming," she tried to say but it came out as more of a whisper. She tried it again and was surprised when her voice sounded raspy. "I'm here."

"Hermione!" She finally recognized it to be Harry. "Come on, Hermione, where are you? Answer me, Hermione. I know you're here, I can feel you."

She paused momentarily at that. He could _feel_ her? What did that mean?

Ignoring it, she repeated, "I'm here," as her hand reached out to grasp the doorknob in a wobbling hand. She managed to get it open, though, and found herself in Harry's arms.

He caught her just as she went to tumble over. "Come on, Hermione, stay awake. You have to stay awake. I'll get you to the hospital."

She shook her head weakly. "No, no…I'm fine, just…tired."

His green eyes scanned over her face, a million or so emotions flittering over his as he muttered an oath and swung her up into his arms. "Hermione, you're sick. We've got to get you to the doctor…"

"Harry, I failed…I failed."

He glanced down at her. Any other person in his position would have thought her delirious, but he knew what she was talking about.

He also knew that she hadn't failed.

"Stay with me, Hermione, you can't give up now, not when you've done so much."

Her empty brown eyes met his as she somehow found the strength to keep them open. "No," she denied in her weak voice, "I failed. I tried, I wanted so much…"

Her voice died and her eyes closed, her mind slipping easily into sleep. He could feel the sickness claiming her on the inside, he could feel her body weakening.

He was at the bottom of the stairs before their visitor made an entrance. He took one look at Hermione's limp body and instantly rushed to Harry's side. "What's wrong with her? Where are you taking her? What do you need me to do?"

"She's sick, I'm taking her to St. Mungo's, and right now I just need you to follow me," Harry answered in order as he brushed past the taller man and walked over to the fireplace. "But put an illusion charm on yourself, we don't need any unnecessary questions right now."

The other man nodded and quickly did as Harry instructed. As he watched the younger man enter the fireplace, he could only hope for her recovery.

He was not going to lose her for the third time in his life.

**XoXoX**

St. Mungo's, a wizarding hospital in London, wasn't as busy as Harry had once saw it. During the long years of the war, the halls had been filled with injured people who needed medical attention. Some of them had been Order members, others were just casualties who really had no part in the war.

Harry had seen many fatalities while just sitting in the waiting room during the war. There were too many who needed treatment, then, and not enough Healers. Some hadn't been able to hold out until a Healer could see them.

But after the war, that had changed. Life had once again returned to what it had once been and fewer people frequented the hospital. You saw the normal ailments now in the hallway, not war wounds.

Harry was currently sitting next to a man of fifty with salt and pepper hair and dark green eyes. Of course, the man didn't normally look like that but only Harry knew that.

The man leaned over and asked softly. "What was wrong with her, Harry? Please, I know you know so don't lie to me."

Harry sighed. He had been expecting this question ever since they had first signed in and rushed her off to a private room. "She's sick," he answered. "She's pushed herself too far this time and her body became weak, allowing a muggle virus to infect her."

The other man nodded slowly as he took it in. "Will she…will she be alright?"

"With some good medicine in her body and a little bit of rest, the sickness will past," Harry said slowly. Then, "But there's something else wrong with her…something only she can heal."

"What's that?"

"She's thrown herself into a frenzy trying to complete her mission and last night, when she thought she failed, she fell into a depression of sorts." Harry touched a finger to his scar. "She wanted so much to succeed and when she thought she failed, it was just too much."

"But she didn't…"

"We know that, but she doesn't." Harry looked at the man sitting beside of her. "You're the only one that's going to be able to reach her, to make her understand."

The man chewed over the younger man's words, his green eyes flashing for a second back to their normal colour as a feeling rose up inside of him. "I love her," he acknowledged, more to himself than to Harry, "and I'll do whatever it takes to help her."

"Good," was all Harry was able to get out before the Healer in charge of Hermione walked out of the door and towards them. He wasn't smiling, they noticed, and nor did he have that swagger in his step they often did when they were congratulating themselves.

"Mr. Potter," he said, ignoring the other's presence, "we have gave her medicine to fight off her illness and to allow her body to recover."

"I'm sensing a but in there."

"But she's not responding to anything." The Healer shifted nervously. Who would want to be the one to tell the saviour of the wizarding world that his best friend may not fully be herself again. "She's suffering from fatigue. It's obvious that she's been without several days of sleep or proper nourishment. She also keeps crying out in her sleep, something about failing and a journal. Do you know what that may be about?"

Harry looked at his companion who answered, "I do. Do you think I could go in there for a minute and see her? I promise that I won't do anything that I'm not supposed to."

The Healer looked towards Harry for confirmation- which may seem like an odd thing to do but Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived and he felt that he must receive permission for some reason- and received a nod in affirmation.

"Go on in," he finally said, stepping aside. "I must warn you, though, that you probably won't get any reaction from her. She's retreated within herself."

The other man nodded and stepped past Harry and the Healer into the room. As soon as the door shut, her performed a locking spell and a silencing charm. Then, as he turned to the inert form of Hermione, he allowed the illusion charm to drop.

**XoXoX**

She was dreaming.

She was in a dark field outlined in a glowing green light. She could make out the faint outline of trees past the green glow. There was no moon nor stars in the sky.

There were dark figures heading out of the green light now, cloaked figures who formed a ring around her. They advanced together, the ring slowly getting smaller and smaller…

She turned from side to side as she sought an exit but found that her feet would not obey her command. It was like they were frozen to the ground.

Her knees were shaking uncontrollably and she just wanted to give in and allow herself to collapse, but she withheld. She must not bend before them…

They were almost upon her now, their hoods pulled low so that she could not make out any of their features. Their cloaks were so bulky that she was unable to make out their shape or size as well.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she cried out, trying to keep her fear from showing in her voice.

The green light was licking higher into the sky and she could see more in the darkness. There were about thirty of them surrounding her, their steps slow and steady. It was then that she noticed something strange.

None of them had a wand.

They completely surrounded her, their shoulders knocking together as they loomed over her. Her eyes moved along them, searching for any sign of their identity as the fear fought to consume her.

She closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to the war when she had stood bravely before Voldemort alongside Harry and Ron. So many had fell around them, so many of their friends, but they had fought on, determined to bring hope to the rest of the wizarding world.

She had been fighting for others then, now she had to fight for herself.

With a sense of clarity, she opened her eyes and gazed at the one directly in front of her. "I am not afraid of you." She spoke clearly, her eyes not wavering. "I'll no longer be afraid."

"It is not I that you should fear," the figure spoke calmly and she had a feeling that she had heard that voice before. "It is yourself."

That shocked her for a second before she quickly gathered her senses again. "Myself? What do I have to fear about myself?"

A figure to her left spoke up, a female voice this time. "Hermione, you have always been brave and smart and everyone knows that. You have always put others' needs before your own, but now you must meet your own."

Another voice joined the first two. "You have always been afraid of failure. Don't you see, Hermione, that failure leads us on to be greater, to succeed. Without failure there would be no determination, no self-improvement."

Hermione could feel the tears stinging at her eyes but she pushed them away, refusing to let them fall. "But I didn't only fail myself this time, I failed him, I failed Harry."

The figure in front of her spoke again. "But you didn't fail, Hermione. Everything that you were supposed to complete that night you did."

"You need to realize that you deserve happiness, even if it isn't in the form that you expected it to come in. Remember, magic works in mysterious ways."

Hermione looked down at her hands and saw the visible ink stains from her endless work. She saw the black lines flowing over her skin, how they seemed to run forever and ever until they eventually crashed into each other.

"I once thought that I would be someone who people would revere when I grew up. Instead, I'm just a girl who wants to change the world." She looked up at them and smiled weakly. "Once upon a time, I just wanted to live and work, but now I want something else. I want what I felt when I was talking to him."

"Then go get it," the female voice said as she reached up and lowered her hood.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Hannah?" The person in front of her lowered their hood. "Neville?" She looked around her as they all lowered their hoods.

She knew them all.

There was Fred Weasley, Bill Weasley, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, and so many more she knew who had died during the war. Even Viktor Krum stood amongst them, smiling gently at her as he once did oh so long ago.

Neville took a step forward and took her hand. "Hermione, never in all the years that we knew each other have I ever seen you fail."

She shook her head. "But, Neville, I did…"

"No, you just don't understand," he said, "yet. But you will."

Fred stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Hermione, you can't beat yourself up over this. You have to continue to live, you have to fight." He grinned. "You've always been a fighter so don't disappoint me now. Besides, who's going to keep nagging Ron if you don't go back, eh?"

She smiled at him. "I do, don't I." She took a deep breath. "I can't give up, I know. For a while, it just seemed easier than living."

"It usually is," Lavender said gently.

Hermione looked at them. "Thank you, all of you. I think I finally understand."

"Go back, Hermione," Bill commanded. "Close your eyes and fight the darkness. Rise out of it and go back into the light."

Hermione glanced around at them all one last time before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and plunging into the dark pit that waited before her.

**XoXoX**

She was surrounded by a bright white light when her brown eyes slowly blinked open. It was only when she heard the soft and steady beating of a machine did she realize that Harry must have taken her to the hospital.

She felt someone stir beside of her and turned her head. She had expected to be greeted by the site of Harry sitting beside of her in one of those uncomfortable chairs.

But she wasn't.

"Sirius?"

Her voice was weak, she knew, the raspy sound of it still startling her, but it was enough. His grey eyes opened at the sound of her voice and a smile instantly appeared on his face.

He wasn't completely like she remembered him before he had fell through the veil. His hair was shorter, just off his shoulders, and his skin wasn't as sunken in and pale. Actually, he looked…younger.

"Hermione," he let out in a soft breath, his hand coming up to touch her cheek.

She smiled and reached up to catch his hands. "Sirius." The voice was more like her own now, more confidence in it as she stared at the man sitting before her.

"You don't know how worried you've made us, love." He moved to sit down beside of her on the bed, his face peering down into hers as his hand continued to stroke her skin.

Suddenly, she realized that he wasn't supposed to be there…she had failed… "How?" she asked softly but found his finger on her lips.

"Let's not worry about the details just yet," he told her, his voice tender. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, letting them linger there for a second or two before pulling back. "For now, just close your eyes and rest."

She wanted to talk to him, to look at him, to touch him, but she soon found herself obeying his soft command as her eyes drifted shut and sleep embraced her. She would never know that he had stayed by her side the entire night…just like he would remain there for the rest of their life.

**Ending**

Two months had passed since then. The return of Sirius Black into the wizarding world had gone over relatively easy. Since no one but the three knew how he had came back, a number of rumours flew around about how he had escaped death.

None of them- Harry, Hermione, or Sirius- really questioned the full extent of what had brought him back from the veil. They knew, though, that magic worked in mysterious ways and that the most powerful magic was love.

That was all they needed to know.

Love, ladies and gentlemen, is a truly marvellous thing. Love does not care for a trivial thing such as time. It extends over the years. It ignores the small prejudices imbedded into a certain class since birth. To love, there is no such thing as pureblood and mudblood.

Maybe it was a miracle that brought two very different people together, creating an unbreakable bond between them that would bring them back together despite the things working against them. Or maybe it was fate that the two would meet through a journal long forgotten.

Whatever it was, it was magic and it happened in the Black House.

**And so it's over...I just like to take a moment and say thank you for reading and reviewing. THANK YOU.**

**Now, as some of you have found out, I often like to put little 'sneak peeks' into my LJ. So, if you want a sneak peek of CY (b/c there's one up) go over to my LJ.**

**Much love,**

**MiZZ AmAyA**


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